


October 2039

by Goodwill



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Happy Birthday Gav, I'm bad at it, M/M, i don't even know man, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodwill/pseuds/Goodwill
Summary: Gavin's 37th birthday.  Not an outstanding achievement by any means, and definitely not something he would subject much care into, but Rk900 (Nines) has to go and fuck it all up.





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically attached to my other work, Vindictive, that is still in progress, but the opportunity arose to write about Gavin's birthday on his actual birthday so you know I had to take it.
> 
> Dedicated to the trash Libra that is Gavin Reed whom I both simultaneously love and hate with all my heart, and to anyone who feels the same about him. ♡

_October 7th, 2039._

From afar, Gavin is the picture of boredom. Arms are loosely hanging by his sides while he leans back against the wall and stares at his boots, but a closer look reveals a small smirk securely tucked in the corner of his mouth. He had expected the quick and easy office routine of an acknowledgment to his turning thirty seven, a few print outs or balloons scattered around his desk, but definitely not this. When he had entered the precinct that morning, Gavin was greeted with pats to his back and shoulders, all of which were steadily guiding him to the break room. It was decorated with the conventional birthday banners, some streamers here and there, and even a cake marked 'happy birthday gavin'. He could tell the decorations had been picked up that morning but it was _the thought that counts_ , right?

Sure he's a little rough around the edges, anyone who's spoken to him knows that, but just for a moment, as his eyes flick to the faces of his colleagues, he goes a little soft. Then he catches the eye of his Lieutenant, who gives him a nod of recognition and tries his best at a thin smile.

"Surprised these cases 'aven't done ya in yet, props to ya fer sticking it out this long." Hank hopes that doesn't come off as standoffish as it seems, merely just the opposite ‒ it's his attempt at a compliment. He's never been good at giving them, probably never would be, either. Gavin's all the same. "You don't look a day over fourty."

The detective perks up at this, returning his own crooked grin. _So_ the guy has a sense of humor. Not exactly a lost cause after all. 

"What, all the clowns were sold out, so we outta settle with you?" Gavin lets out an all-gut laugh at his own joke, pushing off from the wall to feel less isolated, also intrigued by the Lieutenant's honesty.

"For fuck's sake, Reed, would it kill ya to say thank you?" Hank is quickly regretting his participation in this so-called get together.

"You ain't denyin' it."

"Well, on second thought," Hank shoves a hair through his hair to duck into a scoff. "It'd be a less of headache to not 'ave ya around as much‒should'a let your 'droid replace you. I think I'm startin' to like 'em better."

Obviously it was a _heavy_ joke, a simple tease, but Gavin openly grimaced at the mention of the Rk900 with a half annoyed, half amused huff of air. "Not gettin' rid of me that easy; 'specially not cause of no android." 

" _A'right_ settle down," Hank replies nonchalantly, looking over his left shoulder to Connor, who was patiently waiting for his invitation to join into conversation. The android catches on and fixes his tie, then makes his way beside the Lieutenant to greet Gavin.

_On the topic of headaches..._

"Hello, Detective."

Gavin's eyes look between Hank Anderson and his pet, heels digging uncomfortably into the ground to distract him from the groan bubbling at his throat. 

Connor swallows and bows his head at the lack of response, breaking eye contact. "I know we have had our... _falling-outs_ in the past, but I sincerely hope everything goes well for you today and that you enjoy yourself thoroughly. Happy birthday."

The _birthday boy_ watches as Connor bulldozes what he can only assume was supposed to be a comforting notion. Gavin knows, deep down. He's not an idiot depite what the rest of the precinct liked to think, which was bittersweet considering that they were here for him now. Connor was designed to be perfect, better than he was, and it's what pissed him off to begin with. Even with a gun and the high ground, Gavin still hadn't been able to get one over on Connor. He'll claim till his dying breath that it was because he hadn't slept much at all the days prior and was almost sick over the whole android revolution bullshit, but he still knows that he got his ass beat _pitifully_ in the archive room nearly a year ago.

His shame still has yet to let him forget it.

The worst part about Connor's words now is that Gavin can tell that they're genuine. His field of work made him fairly susceptible to picking up on lies versus truths, which made this easy to detect, however it is still difficult for him to accept the sincerity being that it's coming from a machine. Gavin stiffens, eyeing Connor up once then offers him a brisk nod of gratitude, but says nothing, turning his attention back to Hank. He tried his best to ignore Connor's frown as he speaks,

"You part of the decoration crew?"

Hank pulls a face, following Gavin's gesture to the decently sized _37_ balloon at the back of the room. "And risk pullin' my back out?" Shakes his head. "No, this was all _Chen's_ doing, you can take up any complaints with her."

Tina. This was definitely her handy work.

Gavin mentally reminded himself to thank her later, after a bundle of 'you didn't have to's' and 'what am I, seven?'s. Too much pride.

"All right. Well." He waved submissively, wanting to get this whole celebration thing over and done with. "Guess it's time to _haul ass_. Wouldn't want Nines to get all pissy about me loungin' around in here any longer, asshole's always on my tail about wastin' time."

Not a complete lie, but even to him, there's doubt that the android would have had a problem with Gavin celebrating. But he finds it almost nauseating to be the focal point of attention in his work place for any reason other than academic praise, hating large crowds and too much attention as much as the next guy. It wasn't anxiety, only in very rare cases did _Gavin Reed_ get nervous, he was simply more of the _lone wolf_ type of guy. So any excuse to find a way out of a small room packed with some of the department's most well-known officers would've sufficed. Luckily the one he used looked as though it worked, because while Connor began to protest, being the predecessor of the model, Hank gave a motion of his head to stop him.

While partly amused at Nines' ability to put up with him, Hank was _glad_ someone's finally keeping this jerk company. And from what he can tell, Gavin appears to be letting down his guard more and more as the months roll by, vindictive facade touching something almost tolerable at times. 

Connor decides against objecting.

"Mhh. He's got one helluva work ethic." The Lieutenant gives his go-ahead with a nod at his excuse. It was easy to tell the real reason behind Gavin's desire to get the fuck out, and Hank could almost sympathize with him, not being the best with socialization himself. "Get out while you can, it's going to get _squishy_ in here pretty damn fast."

That was much was true; once the cake was cut, it was sure to become swarmed with guests. _What was it with cops and having a sweet tooth?_

Gavin takes that as his cue to leave and responds with a half-assed salute, throwing it in the pair's direction and sliding out of the breakroom.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly, and in no time things are falling back into place, back into _routine_. However cliche that may have been to someone more introverted, Gavin wouldn't bitch about it. He finds himself sitting back in his chair, the same inappropriate way he always did‒seat pushed back, feet propped up, arms nested over his torso‒staring into the endless stream of information on his monitor. The chattering from the breakroom isn't all that distracting, Gavin welcoming himself into getting lost in his work, focusing on the newest case at hand, a petty argument gone _horribly_ wrong. The usual for Detroit, Michigan. He is too lost in his work that he doesn't register the approaching figure until it addresses him.

"Good morning, Detective Reed."

Synthetic hands placed the brown cup down on his partner's desk, leaning over before returning to his perfect posture once more. After the initial surprise of his presence is passed, Nines slides over a bundle of paperwork in his direction as well, knowing that, even though it was a day of celebration to Gavin, important work must not to be neglected in spite of it. Though, internally, he felt uncertain that the unexpected yet exceptionally diligent nature Gavin had would allow him to abuse that fact regardless. It was one of this human's few better qualities, Nines would have liked to think.

"There is something I need to ask of you."

The gesture throws the detective off guard. Nines had never once brought him a coffee involuntarily, and even when Gavin had pestered him for one, he hadn't obliged. Instead, he made sure to always remind Gavin that he was not his servant and deliberately did not fetch things for him because of it. A study of the emotion displayed on Gavin's face as he screwed it up would have been that of confusion and suspicion.

"Did you _poison it_ , tin-can?" Gavin all but snatches the coffee cup from his desk, bundle untouched as he lifts the warm cup to his nose, taking a whiff of the liquid inside. Yep, smells like coffee. He couldn't help but be paranoid, really. Always thought androids were out to get him or something, _too many sci-fi flicks_ , and the present of a cyanide laced cup of coffee was all he expected from Nines. He grabs for the files, taking a tentative sip out of the cup and speaking through a mouthful of the hot caffeinated goodness. "Sure, whaddya got for me?"

"My apologies, but I have not tampered with your drink other than to add sugar and cream." There's a cocky smile titling the tip of his lips even though Nines' response was not out of place, remaining calm and collected. It earns him the reaction of a turn of Gavin's head and slight squint. Nines carries on as if the encounter hasn't been added to his partner's 'most batshit days at the precinct' records.

"I understand that it is your date of birth today. Would you be opposed if I engaged in the celebration?"

Takes another sip of his coffee, and though Gavin would first walk himself off the roof of the station before admitting it to anyone else, he appreciates the gesture. It wasnt everyday that someone suggested hanging around with him, casually or otherwise. He swallowed his coffee hard, procrastinating his answer.

"I... I ain't celebratin', plastic."

Nines tilts his head to a 45°, thinking with a beat of silence, hardly faltered by the comment. It may have seemed like it, but there was arguably no declination in his response, and from what he had learned from Gavin, this was as good as an assurance as any. What he had meant was that he had no ongoing plans for tonight.

"I think you should reconsider going out and doing something specifically for your benefit," He says, monitoring Gavin carefully. "And if you don't mind, I would like to accompany you."

Did he hear that correctly? _Accompany him_?

His eyes attentively narrowed, body reacting before his tongue could, removing his feet from their resting position on the desk back to the floor, then turning in his seat to properly face the android. The seconds ticked away ever slowly as Gavin stared at him with just as much caution as he acquired for the drink, look of skepticism intensifying some.

"—The fuck?" He moved to let the coffee rest idly on the side, more or less conflicted about the situation. "You askin' me to go out with you? Not like that, but‒"

"Yes. Are you inclined?"

That sentence there was enough to solidify it's top five placement in his 'most batshit days at the precinct' records alone. From all the other cops, detectives, and lieutenants, this one here, Gavin Reed, was the lucky winner of such an honorable gift. A present that was an object he was looking at, prying into, a mere machine, no soul, just wires and it had asked him to _accompany_ him on his birthday. It was something. _It meant something_. It meant... that he was on the brink of losing his shit when he accepted his fucking offer.

"Yeah... yeah. Sure, I'll bite."


	2. Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin takes up Nines' offer for his company and is surprised to find he doesn't regret it. Not at all, actually.

_October 7th, 2039._

The atmosphere was that of serenity. 

The rest of the work day seemed to roll by without anything exceptional, most uneventful aside from the morning's brief celebration of sorts. Occasionally cases were reported in, ranging from motor vehicle theft to aggravated assault, sometimes hand-in-hand, nothing less than typical for a Friday evening. Eveything was taken care of swiftly and decisively, the general mood for the Detriot Central station a good one, mostly generating from the cake and coffee served in the breakroom. It was a nice change, a common relaxed atmosphere over everyone. Maybe it should have been the same for Nines as well, if anything, possibly even more so, considering how smoothly he had appeared to be while asking to companion Gavin outside of work just hours earlier.

But there was an uncertainty in his chest.

There had been no prior plans made between him and Gavin and none after the proposal of them celebrating had been made, which has Nines feeling most unprepared, as he liked to have everything organized instead of spontaneous. But time and time again, it was proved that Gavin was the opposite of those standards. Sitting across from the detective at his terminal, he knew bringing up the subject of the celebration would be most inappropriate considering they were at work. However...

Nines allowed himself to disregard that fact for the moment as he prepared to send a message to Gavin, displaying the text in mind before sending it out. He dared not to look up, letting the element of surprise find it's way to Gavin instead.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, causing his free hand to dig it out and check the message. Terrible idea, but he did it anyway. Gavin prepared himself for the hard stare and lecture from Nines that always came with his phone use, and his mouth was already parting to tell him to _fuck off_ , but was surprised by the lack of either. Fishing out his device and eyeing the name on screen gave him the reason why before he could ask, and a brew of confusion and curiosity stirred in his gut.

2:34 PM.

( **#313 248 317 - 87** ) Hello, Detective Reed.

Nines had fucking _texted_ him.

Green eyes peer up, _stare_ at the android who so casually continued on with his work, paying no mind to his partner's signals. He leans forward, flashing a smile that was all teeth, sharp and probably more unsettling than flirtatious.

"Use your words, plastic, I know you're capable. Ever since you got here it's been hard to shut you up." A harmless joke, but it provokes no reaction. "Hey, _subordinate_. What gives?"

If there was a gaze to be met, the Rk900 does not look up to meet it, keeping his focus on the screen in front of him. Nines tries not to let an amused chuckle leave his lips as the shifts pages around on his monitor, the detective effectively gaining his attention with another new nickname, one that was somewhat more playful than their usual bite.

"Subordinate... _Clever_. But ironic, wouldn't you think?" Nines pauses, thinking it over once more in his head, LED splitting yellow for a mere second before falling back to it's cyan hue. "I think you must have me confused with the Rk800."

Fingers drum against the sturdy phone case lining his device. "Nope, think I've gotten pretty good at tellin' you two apart." Gavin finished his sentence with an exhale through his nose, trying to pick apart the machine in front of him and see what kind of game it's currently playing. It doesn't work, Nines' pokerface was the best he's ever seen.

"C'mon, Nines, what're you textin' me for?"

He lifts his head when he hears his given name‒it is the first time Gavin had ever used it, and the android finds himself quite fond of the way it sounds leaving his lips. An unfleshed finger retracts itself away from his computer monitor at the register of a question, and he shifts his attention from his case file to the man staring at him. Blue eyes meet green.

The question renders him quiet for a moment as he refines his motives, then speaks up in return, all avoidance and smug undertones. "Detective Reed, I really don't see how this pertains to the task at hand." There's somewhat of a cocky smile at tip of his lips, barely noticeable as were most of his expressions. "Must I remind you of what the assignment is?"

"Remind me? You gotta me shittin' me, I was workin' on it until‒"

But Gavin's interrupted before he can even finish his defense, another vibration travelling up his arm from the message he received.

2:36 PM.

( **#313 248 317 - 87** ) Meet me at the Standby bar at 7pm, I would like to celebrate there with you.

Puts his phone down flat on the desk, arms crossing protectively over his front. "Ok, tin-can," Gavin muses, "What's going on with you? Cut the crap. You seemed so fuckin' high and mighty askin' me out in front of the whole office earlier. Did the shame finally get to you?" He throws a smirk, the last question a genuine accusation disguised as a tease.

Nines turns his head, tipping it in consideration. The discussion was that of something outside of work, something most inappropriate to talk about while in the depths of solving a case, and because of Gavin's tendency to be quite reserved about his outside life while at work, he had assumed that it would been a more suitable preference to keep their plans private. If that were wrong however, Nines would have no problem changing his approach, though his instincts tell him otherwise.

He wants to scan Gavin to gain any indication that what he is saying is more than just the front he always put up, but knows doing so would be a breach of his ability, _an impolite behavior_ , as Connor had put it. So instead he nods stiffly, momentarily cutting off his communications to Gavin's messages and responding calmly.

"I did not intend for my texts to be problematic, but if you prefer we have this conversation aloud, we may continue as such." He gives no time for Gavin to interject, folding his hands. "The Standby, it's a location you have frequented the most since we have become partners, and I feel that you would be most comfortable with me there if you are up to drinking tonight."

Like clockwork, he feels eyes on him. Nines' words are floating around the office, making their situation known to all. _Gavin Reed is spending his birthday with an android_.

Before he can bite back his declaration of having a reputation, maybe even throw a few more taunts, the machine is speaking again, clear and loud enough that what he says can be picked up on by their colleagues. He swallows, and puts little thought into raising two of his fingers into the air to silence Nines.

" _Lower your fuckin' voice_."

He's glancing around the office again, his face unreadable aside from it's usual scowl. But after a few seconds of tense silence and Gavin bouncing his knee, he's turning back to Nines and leaning a bit forward to his desk, "I don't got a problem with you sayin' this shit, but I'd like it if the entire Detroit Police Department didn't have to be in on it, too. Think you can handle that?"

A smile takes to the Rk900's features as he lifts his gaze from the case file he's been looking at, purposely oblivious to the faces of their colleagues looking over to him. "Perhaps. Though I rather like talking instead of reverting to text."

Gavin felt his eyes roll, then another vibration assaulted his thoughts.

2:39 PM.

( **#313 248 317 - 87** ) Bring a jacket, the forecast for tonight reported a moderate chance of rain.

‒

He said _moderate_ chance of rain. Understatement of the year. It was a very high chance, from what Gavin could have guessed from his window earlier that evening, and again from when he had felt it penetrating his shirt after deciding to leave his jacket at home.

One step at a time, the detective walked with a distinct precaution in his gait. The soil was wet, the rain still poured gently over the city, he had to be the sole pedestrian outside in such a lovely night. One glance to his right, one left, he looked around for cars, for people, anything. Nothing. _Jealousy_. If it weren't for the open invitation from the android, he also would have been one of the lucky motherfuckers laid up inside, out of the rain, preferably watching reruns of old movies on his couch. Despite of it being his birthday, that's all he wanted to do. All he felt comfortable doing, really.

Then again, standing outside the Standyby bar in jeans and a tee shirt in the pissing rain was nothing less than what he probably deserved. Shitty weather for a shitty person, go figure. He wanted a cigarette, or a drink, it was one of the few times he actually found himself craving one, and for more reasons than one at this point. For once, he might just be about lucky enough to get one of those; Gavin has forgotten to grab his pack on his way out, mind preoccupied. 

He stopped outside the front of the building, finding a decent enough shelter by the far end of the bar's entrance, keeping himself only covered enough as to not get his clothing soaked. Awareness, eyes constantly on the street, then to his watch. The time read 8:06 PM. He was late, a habit he was bound to break along side smoking, so he thought it was safe enough to assume that Nines was already inside, packed inside with the rest of the Friday night crowd. Gavin peered in through a spot in the window, immediately spotting his target.

Sitting straight upon the furthest bar stool was Nines, free of his Cyberlife jacket, wearing all black _everything_. The turtle neck he wore was snuggled tight to artificial skin of his neck, contrasting against the pale of his tone almost mesmerizing so, and his slacks were fitted tightly to his slender body. Gavin coughed roughly in surprise, feeling severely undressed in his appearance. The fucker had shown up more dolled up to his birthday 'party' then he had. The thought caused his mind with a smirk, eyes still tracing over the outline of Nines' body. 

Sure he had noticed his attractiveness before, it was hard not to when forced to be by his side near everyday for the past several months, but Gavin had never seen him like _that_. At the office, Nines had only ever worn his given Cyberlife jacket and some variation of dress pants. Heading inside now, Gavin found it hard to resist acknowledging how fucking _good_ he looked, even under the dim lights of the bar. 

The carpet was pulled out from him however, when Nines looked up, eyes narrowed and locked with his.

"You're late, Detective."

‒

After bickering over Gavin's tardiness, the small talk that ensued was, although slightly awkward at first, easy to get into. The topic always seemed to switch, one story merging into another, then another, and another, mostly by Gavin whom had the most experience out of the two with life stories. He even found himself cracking up at times, being quite the storyteller, essentiating all of that he told while Nines listened surprisingly eagerly, LED locked and spinning a solid blue. It was when the drinks started coming up did Gavin really get into sharing the odds and ends he faced over the years, some of which included Tina Chen, a face Nines was familiar with at the precinct.

How easily Gavin would share things unprovoked and by his own accord never created to amaze the Rk900. He was always interested in his partner had to say, despite of some of the more concerning ones that arose occasionally, nevertheless Gavin did not seem to mind when he would press into them and question his motives. He was happy to share, to tell parts of himself through his experiences, as long as they did not reveal too much. Nines, for once, did not feel the need to pressure him into delving into it either, letting the detective pick and choose his words, even if they were a little slurred and jumbled by alcohol.

Soon enough, the topic of conversation switched to Nines and his experiences, as little as he may have had to share. Eventually, he had confessed to Gavin that this was his first proactive encounter with a human outside of his career, earning himself an open jaw and skeptical narrowed eyes from Gavin.

"Holy shit, _really_? This is your first time out with a human?" Gavin almost laughs, more in the disbelief of it all rather than in amusement. "Must be real fuckin' weird for you."

"Well," He hums, "Not really. I suppose that, as far as my human encounters go, this is on the more normal side." Nines chuckled quietly, considerate. He might have mentioned that that was simply because, more often than not, he didn’t have any encounters with human beings unless it were trivial to his work. At the very least, not if he could avoid it. Still, it was a very _him_  thing to do, regardless of being a machine. Nines, as an individual, preferred solidarity and time to himself. He thought of himself as different yet very similar to Gavin in that regard.

Speaking of, the detective's mouth freezes into a smile for an uncomfortable moment. There's not a day that passes where he feels that his face is properly laid on his skull. He ponders as to what the android refers to as weirder things happening to him, perhaps he was a spectre. That would not be surprising, either. "If this is considered a normal encounter..." a rare laugh tumbles out clumsily, Gavin shaking his head. His next words are stifled when he brings the glass to his lips one more, "well, _shit_."

Nines watches as Gavin downs what is left of his drink, the scent of liquor exhaling through his nose as he breathed. He swirled his own drink in his hand tentively, his illusion of a finger tracing around the rim. He pondered over how alcohol seemed to loosen humans up, almost as a truth serum coated in an anxiety reliever. His partner, normally hot-tempered and easily irritable know eased into relaxation, any past tensions slipping away. He smiled at the thought, but wished there was a more healthy way of soothing Gavin, a part of himself aching to be the reason why as well.

Nines took a quick sip of his bitter tasting drink before looking back to Gavin with his thoughts on his tongue. "How... how are you feeling about this, our arrangement?" His eyebrows pressed together at his own words, trying to vocalize his concerns as accurately as he could while still trying to decipher them himself. "I know you probably would have preferred human interaction."

He stiffened, intoxication lacing over his tongue and mind as he listened. It was the first time he had ever caught... uncertainty on the Rk900's voice, almost as if he doubted himself. Gavin shot him a look, lips parting to speak but the words were lost in his throat. _How the fuck do you comfort a machine?_ He wasn't sure how, though admittingly, staring him in the face and _those eyes_ , steel and hard, only on him, had made him want to try.

He wasn't drunk enough for this. Not even when the lights of the bar seemed to swirl around him.

Gavin leaned over the table, motioning to the bartender to bring him another drink. "I don’t mind it. I'm, uh, I’m not exactly a _people person_ , if you catch my drift.” He said, tapping impatiently on the counter as he watched his drink being fixed. 

"You tolerate them," Nines shifted, hands knotting together on the surface in front of him. "But you have an intolerance towards androids."

A sudden tone in voice. Disappointment, maybe. 

"No. This is…" the colored shapes cast onto his hands are now red with the alternating advertisement, reflecting off his near empty shot glass. "This is fine, plastic. You know, I'm surprised that I... it's fine."

Regardless of the peculiarity of the situation, Hell, Gavin was having a damned good time. Whether it was the alcohol coursing through his system or just having a pleasant conversation for once, he didn’t know. Didn't care, either. Not that Nines was an android or that he was spending his spare time with him on his birthday. But he can't bring himself to admit.

Nines returned his gaze to the counter, absently tracing the little imprints in the glossy wood as he spoke. "Fine is an... interesting way to put it." The corners of his lips twitched upwards a bit. 'Fine' was certainly not how he’d describe it. It was great. Of course, that could just be because he was a narcissistic bastard from time to time. After all, he was Cyberlife's definition of _perfection_.

A soft clunk of Nines' glass when it meets the counter. "Is that a promise, Detective?"

"Fuck, what?" A sigh of frustration, hint of embarrassment. "Yeah, ok. Why the fuck not. I _promise_." He swallows his pride with the last of his alcohol.

It's only natural‒pride plays a large part in Gavin's world. He's been getting better but the android knows that change is slow, progress knocked back somewhat by the lingering fear of vulnerability that neither of them could control to the point they wanted to be able to. Promises were important to human, Nines knows that much. They're a sign of trust, loyalty, respect, and something Gavin rarely ever asked for, as if he didn't trust the world not to rip it from his grasp as it's placed there.

But there's comfort in his voice, spoken smooth and low. It's something that washes away all of Nines' doubts. 

Nines nods to himself, letting Gavin's promise settle in. He trusts him, it took months to fully build a foundation for it and to understand Gavin's always unpredictable behavior, but he does. "I believe you."

"I'm flattered, really. Over the moon."

The sarcasm was met with a pretty stubborn frown the android, only causing Gavin to reel back, throat bubbling laughter. His reaction calmed Nines down, shaking his head slow, trying to keep his composure. He could always count on Gavin demolish any sentimental moments. Then he spoke up again once his chuckles subsided,

"Since you've spent all night interrogating me," He said, lifting a finger in Nines' direction. "It's my turn. I have a question for you that I think you're gonna like."

He's intrigued, eyebrow raising and a small nod of a gesture for him to carry on.

"Is it an insult to be called a machine? Or robot, you know, anything like that shit." Gavin is careful to avoid eye contact, but fails to hide the smirk creeping in at the corner of his lips.

There's a soft sigh that leaves Nines, letting a pregnant pause pass. He muses then, shoulders loose, neck exposed, and his hands folded on his lap as he recalls the many names that have been thrown at him, most of which from the man asking. He is generally indifferent to the question, and although it had bothered him some during the first months of their conjoined workmanship, the name-calling had slowly began to lose its bite until he no longer felt affected. It was as if the more he understood Gavin, the less any hostile behaviors would provoke a response. All of it now, the taunting, the teasing, he understood were all coming from a power struggle.

Eyes meet that of his partner's, LED indicator flashing yellow for a few passing moments. Slowly, a smile curls his lips, head cocking ever-so-slightly to the side. " _Personally,_ I'm not offended if you refer to me as a robot or as a machine." Blue eyes look toward him again, now with a subtle sort of caution in his words, calculating and self-aware. "Though I cannot speak for any _other_ androids. I would suggest you be careful, as deviants may feel otherwise."

 _"Deviants"_.

It had slipped from Gavin's mind that Nines had still technically been a machine, even now as they talked. The whole reminder was something of a rude awakening, causing Gavin to grimace and look away from the steel eyes that chased contact with his, laying his elbow firmly on the countertop. It made something in his stomach twist that he would not acknowledge, to know that the conversation he was having was nothing mere of an AI's attempt at interaction. It was simply perfect timing when the bartender slide over his second drink, and Gavin took it in his hands without hesitation.

"Right," He says, nodding along with himself, fingertips pressing into the cool glass of his drink. "Forgot you had no feelings for a second." Gavin chews at his bottom lip for a pause. "How's it feel to be so cold, plastic? Must be nice."

 _Cold?_ Synthetic brows crease, confusion digging at his features. "How so? You know it was never my intention to come across that way. As _deviant_." Nines' words are gentle, quiet. The thought of deviation makes him tense and uncomfortable.

There's a moment of silence as Gavin thinks of what to say, or what he wants to say. His eyes stay on his drink, even while it leads to his mouth and he sips it, letting it burn down his throat without so much as a squint. Nines sounded almost... offended.

"That's not what I... not what I meant." He shook his head, waving his worry off. "I know you're a machine, why do you think I keep reminding you, huh?" Gavin wants this conversation to end here and now. For awhile, he had fooled, letting the Rk900's intimidation of being alive get to him. "Forget it."

The feeling of knuckles dragging along his knee makes him forget it all again.

"Gavin,"

The alert, it flashes across his vision. It interrupts him for only a second, Nines scanning the warnings in the peripheral of his vision. There's nothing to decipher, nothing out of the ordinary. It was a glitch, maybe. A _flaw_. He'd need to run a test later.

"I didn't mean..." Is all he can make out, conflicted with himself, but for what reason? The android could not tell. All he knows is that he does not like Gavin isolating himself away again, not when they were doing so well. And this time, Nines knows it more than just his mission compelling him to continue, "I'm sorry."

The apology lingers in the air until it is drowned out by the low base of the bar's music, only when Gavin moves in his seat do the fingers fall from his skin. Leather groans under his weight, but he turns to look at Nines with confusion. 

Heart rate elevated by 23%.

"Nothing to apologize for," He says around a tight half-smile, shrugging lazily in his seat. "No need to fry your circuits over it."

A pause, the need for a change of scenery, and as well, a change of topic. "Do you feel like heading out?"

 _Do I feel like heading out? Jesus, am I some bimbo you're trying to take home?_  He laughed once at his joke out loud, thinking it wise not to vocalize it. Although it was, he thought, something that he’d said before, exactly, although not quite in this context. Gavin had initially planned on going home after this, to try and sleep off what he was sure was going to be one hell of a hangover if he kept downing shots at the rate he was, not exactly the type to do any clubbing or whatever the fuck the android had next for them.

Guess he just had to roll with it, Nines was incharge for tonight. _Just_ for tonight though, until the haze of whiskey wore off. Although, Gavin had forced himself to become productive under worse conditions.

It would just _kind of_ be a pain in the ass right now.

He closed his eyes for a moment, running his hand through his still damp hair. Yeah, the liquor was getting to him. Although hardly enough to cause him to make a fool of himself, he couldn’t help it; he was in a good mood. "Alright." He slams his hands on the table, rising. "Let’s see where this night takes us, tin man."

"Very optimistic, Detective." Nines said after a pause, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. The lopsided grin Gavin returned to him was saved to his memories within the instant, one softened by genuine happiness was rare and beautiful.

 _Beautiful_ , he realized. Gavin was beautiful.

(Software Instability **^** )

**Author's Note:**

> If this does well and people are interested, I've been considering writing a second chapter to this, focusing on the celebration part that strictly involves Gavin and Nines. If not, I'll just continue on with my other work.


End file.
